


Promise

by AwesomeMango7



Category: Rick and Morty
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Drunk Rick, Family, Fluff, Morty is 16 in this one, Morty’s just tired, Platonic Relationship, Vomit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-18
Updated: 2018-07-18
Packaged: 2019-06-12 15:06:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,239
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15342465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AwesomeMango7/pseuds/AwesomeMango7
Summary: Rick has a really bad nightmare so he gets wasted, and then he stumbles into Morty’s room at an ungodly hour in the morning in search of comfort.





	Promise

**Author's Note:**

> Full disclosure, I wrote this AGES ago, so it’s definitely not gonna be anywhere near as good as my other stuff. I’ve steadily improved my writing skills over time, and I’m not as proud of this work as much as I am with others.
> 
> I’m really hesitant about posting this, but you know what? Screw it. Not like I can do anything else with it. Please enjoy it for what it is, despite the fact that it’s not as good as my other stuff.
> 
> (I did add a few things and edit it before posting this, though, so hopefully it made the whole thing flow a little better.)

This was one of the many occasions Morty had woken up in the dead of night because Rick decided that he needed him for something _exactly at that moment._ In fact, it happened almost _every_ night. It was a miracle if he ever managed to sleep a full 6 to 8 hours like a _regular_ person.

But they always did managed to get back just in time for school in the morning, only for Rick to pull him out of it again halfway through the day. What was even the point of going to school if Rick was just going to pull him out before the day ended?

Oh, right. Beth. 

She still insisted that Morty go, even though he pretty much learned _nothing_ while there, due to never staying long enough to be able to absorb anything.

Hell, he learns more on Rick’s adventures than he ever has in school. But that knowledge wasn't going to help him much in the future, and Morty was sure of that. It would help if he continued to go on adventures as an adult, but not if he wanted to get a job and live a normal life on Earth. Rick kind of took that kind of future away from him.

Usually when Rick woke him up, it was for an adventure, but this was the first time it _wasn’t_ for one. He needed him for something else— something Morty would have never expected in a million years, especially coming from Rick.

Morty woke up the second his door swung open. Rick stood in the doorway, completely wasted, a half-empty bottle in his hand. He squinted his eyes at Morty as if he was struggling to see him, and he swayed from side to side on his feet. Dim moonlight flooded in through the bedroom window, illuminating the dark room just enough for the two of them to see the other’s silhouette.

“R-Rick? Oh god, what time is it?" Morty asked with a yawn, covering his mouth as he did so, and blinking away the grogginess from his eyes. "D-Do we have an adventure to go on?" He reached up to rub one of his eyes with the palm of his hand. A mixture of curiosity an resentment sparked inside of him. As much as he wanted to say, _‘Go away, I want to sleep!'_ he knew it would be useless. Rick was just going to force him into anyway, like always.

Rick stumbled in, tripping slightly over his own feet before plopping himself down onto the end of Morty’s bed. "Y-y-y-y-ya-you’re a good k-kid, Morty. Good kid. Reeeeal trouper." He heavily slurred. His eyes were glazed over, and his head tilted to the side every so often as he peered down at Morty with a cat-like curiosity.

"You're drunk." Morty determined aloud with a small unamused chuckle after catching a whiff of the strong sent of alcohol wafting off his grandpa. He sat up to face him at eye level. "Y-You should go to bed, you don't look so good."

Rick sloppily waved him off, and continued his drunken speech. "Mort—Mort, y-y-you gotta— gotta listen to me, hm’kay? Real I-Important.” He leaned forward, squinting his eyes. “I don't know what I'd do withou-bbBBBBUUURRrp-out you, Morty... I-I-I really c-care ‘bout youuu...” He poked Morty in the chest with his finger.

Morty was taken aback for a second, looking at Rick with wide eyes. What the hell was _that_  all about? Rick was never one to get affectionate. He shook his head. _‘He's just drunk.’_ “Y-Yeah, Rick. I-I don't know what I'd do without you e-either. Are you okay?” Morty wasn't sure on whether it was the alcohol speaking for Rick, or not, but _he_ was telling the truth, at least...

"H-Had... had a dream, Morty." Rick said, grabbing the teens shoulders, and shaking him a little. He still had a bottle in his hand, and the hard glass felt painful as Rick pressed it into his shoulder. "A-A fucking dream!"

"W-w-what dream?" Morty asks, trying not to get annoyed with how Rick was shaking him. He wasn't stupid, so why did he need to shake him as if he didn't understand?

"Y-bBBBBBUUUUuurp-Yo-you died!" Rick’s voice raised into a whisper-shout. "Y-y-y-you're not allowed to die before me, y-y-y-you little shit!" The shaking became a little more violent as he rambled on. "you're— you're— you're gonna f-bBBUUUUUp-fucking outlive me, MORTY! I-I'll make sure of that sh-bBBUUUrrrp-shit!”

Some of Rick's drink spilled onto Morty’s shoulder, and the teen was really starting to feel uncomfortable. "I-I saw you fucking die! T-the F-bbbBBBBUUUrp-Federation found ya, and t-they... they..... THEY TOURED YOU TO DEATH, MORTY! A-a-a-and I could-couldn't s-bUURRrp-stop them! Y-y-you were in my arms! A-And there was blood _everywhere_ a-and... and—“

"Rick, calm down!" Morty grabbed Ricks arms, and pulled them away, the shaking getting a little too crazy for him. Rick seemed absolutely distraught, and it was freaking him out a little. “I-I'm _okay._  I'm right here, you don't have to worry. I'm fine, okay? See?" He motions to himself, showing off that he’s fine. Morty looked at him with worried eyes. He wanted to hug him, but he probably wouldn't take that well.

He was obviously upset... and there wasn't much he could do, besides reassure him that everything was okay.

Then again, Rick probably won't even remember this in the morning, but Morty was too nice to just boot-kick him out of his room. It was a worrying sight to see _Rick_ of all people get this worked up about a dream. Especially one about Morty _dying._ It just wasn't making any sense to him. _Rick doesn't care. He never has._

Rick watched him carefully, listening to Morty words as if they were the answer to the universe. He was so fucking wasted right now.

Morty had never seen him this drunk before, and it was worrying him. He always had a drink in him, but this was different. And unlike all the times he's gotten blackout drunk, he was actually being docile and sane. Well, kinda. He wasn't blowing up planets and stuff...

So that would either mean he was _too drunk_ to do that stuff, or was just _way too emotional._ He can't even keep his eyes all the way open. The teen was surprised that Rick hadn't fallen over on his way to the bed.

Rick leaned forward and pulled Morty into a stong bear-hug. His first reaction was to flinch, completely not expecting a _hug_ from _Rick Sanchez_ , of all people. He, very hesitantly, hugged his grandpa back. Looks like he would have taken a hug well after all. It was nice to hug him. Morty never got hugs from Rick.

"I-I'm okay. I'm not going anywhere." Morty said quietly, reaching up to run his hand through the blue strands on Rick’s head. His hair was actually surprisingly soft. "I _promise._ ” He put emphasis on the word 'promise.' The teen wanted to make that loud and clear to Rick. He was okay, and he wasn't going to die.

Well, he didn't _think_ he was going to die early. He has survived through a lot of Rick's adventures, so it was probably only a matter of time before he died on one... but he’d try his best to keep alive, just like any other sane person would do.

A few moments go by before Morty feels something wet on her shoulder. At first, he assumed it was alcohol, or maybe drool. But then he heard Rick sniffle. What the fuck? Was Rick _crying?_

Just at the _thought_ of Rick crying made his eyes water. To actually bring someone like him to tears was almost unbelievable. It would take a lot of pain for something like that to happen. It _had_ to be more than just the dream. _What else was hurting him..?_

‘ _Probably everything...’_ Morty thought to himself deflatedly. Years and years of bottling everything up was probably catching up with him finally, and Morty felt _bad._

Rick wasn't an open person, and if by some miracle he remembered this in the morning, he was probably gonna feel like shit. He would probably go so far as to ignore Morty for a while. A month, tops. This sort of thing was sure to embarrass him, but at least he could let some of his pent up stress out.

"R-Rick..?" Morty asks, unsure of what exactly to say. "Y-y-you're gonna be okay, right?" He buried his face into his lab coat, worry taking over in larger portions than before.

Rick held the teen tighter, and his shoulders hitched _. ‘Yep, he's crying.’_ Morty thought to himself sadly, feeling his heart twist inside his chest. _Holy shit._ His eyes watered more until tears came out, running down his cheeks in messy drops.

Maybe a minute goes by before Rick released him and backed away, both of them with tear stained cheeks. Morty was confused at first, but he soon realized why he so abruptly broke the hug.

He leaned over the edge of the bed, and vomited all over his floor. _Goddamnit_.

"Shit..." Was all Morty muttered as he watched Rick regurgitate whatever drinks he’d consumed throughout the night. Rick _definitely_ had too much to drink. And now he’d have to clean that up...

He had migrated to the ground as he purged his stomach of everything inside it, and was on his hands and knees. When he was done throwing up, the dry heaves kept coming for a while. The teen stayed by his side through all of it, rubbing Rick’s back gently, hoping it would comfort the old man.

"R-Rick— oh, god..." Morty sighed, wiping his own face, trying to rid himself of all the tears. “Y-you— you really need to go to bed, y-you're really drunk.”

"F-Fuhk you, Morty!” Rick said without looking at him. He wiped his face with the end of his lab coat sleeve as he leaned back against Morty’s bed. "Fuck this b-b-bullshit...”

Great. Mood swings from an super drunk old guy.

Morty grabbed his forearm and half helped half forced him to stand. Rick had to lean on him so he wouldn't fall over. He still had the bottle in his hand, and it aggravated Morty. He snatched it from him, and placed it on his nightstand so he could dispose of it later once he was done helping Rick.

“H-Hey!" Rick protested, but his voice wasn't as nearly as angry as it was supposed to come out. He tried to reach for the bottle, but Morty quickly steered him away.

"Come _on,_ Rick, y-you’ve had enough.” Morty said, leading him around the throw up, and down the hall to Rick’s bedroom. They stumbled the whole way because Rick kept almost falling over, and Morty was struggling to keep him up due to the height difference. Sometimes he wished he wasn’t so darn short.

The lamp on Rick’s desk was still on, and Morty counted at least fifteen empty bottles littered on top of the desk as well. They were also accompanied by a bunch of bottles that littered the floor. They looked like the same drink Rick was holding a few seconds ago. _How much could one man drink before they got alcohol poisoning?_ The thought ran through Morty’s mind, but he pushed it down. He was sure Rick would be fine. He’d been worse than this before. Especially on the third and _last_ Vindicators gathering. The teen was still bitter about that whole thing, and Rick would never even know how that damn video had hurt him.

As Morty gazed around the room and mauled over his previous conversation with Rick, he pieced together in his mind what had probably happened. Rick probably had the stupid dream, and then he most likely started drinking after he woke up in an attempt to forget about it. But it obviously hadn't worked, and he went to check on Morty, just in case. That was the most logical explanation.

Morty led him over to his cot, and Rick more or less collapsed onto it. He struggled to tuck him in, finding it hard to do it while he was already on top of the blankets.

Once he did all he could do, he made sure Rick was laying on his side, back against the wall, so that if he threw up again, he wouldn't choke. Though, he really doubted he would, because he had practically purged everything already.

"Y-y-y-y-you're a good kid, Morty." Rick said, lazily pointing at him. His finger swayed in the air, failing to pinpoint exactly where Morty was standing. "Nuh-no one else c-c-c-could put up wit’ me. N-No one."

Morty sat down on the edge of his bed. It seemed that the roles had reversed. "W-Well, that's just what everyone does with family. W-w-we put up with each other. I'm not special, that's just the way f-family is...” He decided to ignore the fact that Rick was repeating himself.

“N-no!” Rick shakes his head. "Y-y-you're not understanding...”

Morty blinked at him curiously.

”N-n-no one w-wuh... no one could h-handle the adventures..." Rick slurred. He looked like he was struggling to make the words coherent enough for Morty, like he had to _really_ put fourth a mental effort. “Y-y-you _can,_ though. Y-y-you _can._ A-a-a-and I-I haven't driven y-y-you away... yet..."

"I-I don't think is possible for you to drive me away, and I wouldn't say I’m actually _handling_ the adventures very well.” Morty ran a hand through his curly brown hair with a sigh. "They're fun, but most of the time I-I just... try not to die. T-they’re pretty traumatizing, y-you know?”

“Y-y-you’re—! Don’t s-say! No! Y-you’re not allowed to die!" Rick yelled suddenly, and Morty flinched back. Rick wasn't usually the one to lose his cool this bad so quickly. He was so fucking wasted right now, it was almost unbelievable.

"H-Hush, Rick!" Morty put a finger up to his lips, glaring down at the drunk mess in front of him. "Y-you'll wake the whole damn house up if you yell like that! A-And then mom, dad, and Summer will want to know what's up. I'm at least 90% sure that you probably don't want to share you _feelings_ with them, Rick."

"Sorry,” Rick slurred, relaxing himself a bit. His head drooped down a little from the struggle of keeping it up for so long. "Y-you're still not allowed to die, though...”

That nightmare must have really shook him up...

Morty felt a shiver go down his spine as a thought intruded his mind. "R-Rick, even if I _did_ die, y-you could always just get a new Morty, and forget all about it..."

“B-But I don't _want_ a _different Morty,_ ” Rick grumbled, much like a whining child, and shakily pushed himself up, undoing all of Morty’s had work to tuck him in. "Y-y-y-you're _my_ lil' buddy!"

Morty rolled his eyes, though that same twisting feeling was in his heart again. Rick doesn't really feel that way. It was probably just the alcohol talking. "R-R-Rick, I really think y-you should go to sleep now..." He said, standing up. Before he could go to turn off the lamp on Rick’s desk, though, the old man at reached forward as quick as a viper, grabbing hold of Morty’s wrist and halting him in his tracks.

Morty turned to look at him impatiently.

"Y-y-you're _my_ grand—grandson. M-My _real_ one." He slurred, trying to pull Morty even closer to himself. "N-bbBBBUUUURRrp-No r-r-reh-replecat—rep... rrrupla...” He couldn’t seem to place how to say the the right word. “Uh, _other_ Morty is like ya! I-I-I don... don't wanna get another you. _Ever._ "

"Don't _lie,_ Rick." Morty growled, frustrated tears spilling down his cheeks. He wrenched his hand out of Rick’s, glaring down at him. “I watched you take the _‘Free Replacement Morty voucher’_ on that one day we went to the Citadel... j-just go to bed, okay? I’m don’t w-with your drunk bullshit...”

"N-n-no! Morty,” Rick reached forward and grabbed his wrist again, his grip tighter this time, as if he was never gonna see him again. "I-I have I-it fu-for a _reason,_ Morty.”

"Yeah..." Morty rolls his eyes. "To-to replace me if I _die._ T-The reason is pretty straight forward, if you ask me..." Morty side-glanced towards the door, wishing he could just run back to his own bedroom.

"No!" Rick growled in his drunk frustration. He didn’t know how to make Morty _understand._ He forced himself to stand, and he put a hand on Morty’s shoulder, leaning on him heavily as he swayed unsteadily. "I-I-I got it suh-so... so that if something happened... E-Everyone else w-wouldn't get hurt if ya died..." Rick's eyes were glazed over and unfocused, and Morty wrinkled his nose at the pungent smell of alcohol wafting off of him. Rick always smelled like that, but it was hardly ever this strong.

"W-what do you mean?" Morty asked, looking up with confused eyes. He wiped his eyes, hating that his emotions had gotten the better of him for a moment.

Rick put the palm of his free hand on his forehead as if struggling to think. "T-t-t-there was... was a Rick I knew..." He explained, refusing to look at Morty. "H-He lost his Morty... a-a-and the family couldn't handle it... e-everyone blamed themselves... espec... est... espe— th-the Rick most..."

Morty listened patiently, fearful of where the story was going.

“T-Things didn't turn out well for them..." He continued, shaking his head for a moment. “T-There was lots of fighting... a-a-and alcohol. T-They fell apart. I-It got so bad that S-Summer were— was put in a shitty foster home..."

There was a moment of silence between the two, as Morty hesitated to ask a question. "W-What... what happened to the Rick?"

"H-He h-h-ha-hardly made it through a full week, before he..." Rick shaped his hand to look like a gun, and pointed it at his temple. He then pretended to fire it, before letting his hand limply fall down to his side.

Morty looked at him with horror on his face. "H-He..."

“Yeah." Rick said.

Morty let out a half-sob half-laugh, feeling like he was on the edge of being hysterical. “Y-y-you're probably not even gonna remember telling me this shit in the morning, huh?" Rick had the replacement Morty voucher to stop everyone else from falling apart if he died. But... it would _never_ work for Rick, because he’d _know_ the replacement wasn’t actually him. And since Rick was telling him this story, he was basically implying that if Morty _died,_ Rick would _literally_ kill himself. 

Not only was that a shit ton of pressure, but it was pretty fucking dark.

For Rick to tell him something like this was like the most horrific thing ever. And he wasn't even going to remember saying it.

A _Rick_ killed himself over the guilt of getting his _Morty_ killed? He almost couldn’t believe it. It was a relief that at least _some_ Ricks cared, but it was also a horrible thought because Morty wouldn't want Rick to do something like that if he just so happened to die on an adventure.

Rick gave him a half-hearted shrug. He knew what was going on right _now,_ even if his judgment was clouded as fuck. Morty was right, though. He probably wouldn't even remember telling him any of this. And Morty was probably never going to tell him he told him while drunk off his ass. _Great, yet another burden for the sixteen-year-old boy to carry._

"Rick..." Morty says, wiping away his tears, and sniffing a little bit. "T-This is the last time I’m gonna say it. You need to go to bed. You are so _wasted_ right now, and I need to clean up the throw up in my room before it stinks up the whole place...”

Morty walked over to Rick’s desk and started collecting the empty bottles, tossing them in the trash.

"L-Let m-me help..." Rick said, walking over to help. He somehow managed to trip over his own feet, but caught himself on the edge of his desk.

“ _Woah!_ ” Morty said, dropping a bottle as he dived down to help Rick stand. The bottle shattered upon contact with the floor and Morty gritted his teeth. Yet another mess to clean, and it was his fault this time. "Yeah, no. Y-you can't even walk five feet. Even if I let you help, you'd only get in the way. Need I remind you that I had to help you walk through the hall way?"

Rick didn't say anything. He just nodded his head to show that he’d heard what he said. Morty helped him over to his cot, and once again, he more of less collapsed onto it.

Morty helped him take his lab coat off, and his shoes. He draped his lab coat on the back of his desk chair, and left his shoes by his bed. Rick watched him carefully, trying hard not to drift off into the land of unconsciousness.

The teen cleaned up the rest of the bottles, including the broken glass. Morty even straightened the place up a little bit. He wasn't one who particularly _liked_  cleaning. It was so boring and tedious. But Rick’s room was so unorganized, that he just _had_ to make it look just a tiny bit better. _Just a little bit._

Rick was a mess sometimes, and Morty wondered what the old man would ever do without him. He was too tired right now to clean up everything, so he decided to call it quits for the night. Though, he did enjoy getting the chance to explore a little bit— he hardly ever got the chance to be in Rick’s room.

Once he was done, he faced Rick, who was sitting up on the bed, squinting at him curiously. "A-Alright, n-now I feel like a parent, because I'm about to say 'It's bed time' for the hundredth time tonight." Morty gave him a shy smile.

Rick grumbled something before laying down on his back.

“On your _side_ Rick." Morty crossed his arms. "I-I don't want you choking in your sleep, _stupid._ “

Rick turned over onto his side. "I-I'm not stupid. Y-y-you're _stupid._ I’m a-a-a fucking genius.” Ahh, the mood swings are back and in action.

Morty ignored it. "I'll be right back, give me a sec..." He said, leaving the room. Morty returned maybe a minute later with a glass of water and some painkillers in his hand. He placed it on his bedside table. "F-For the hangover you are _definitely_ going to have..." He explained.

Rick gave him a small, tired glare. But it didn't last long as a yawn interrupted him.

He smiled at Rick, not feeling all that offended by Rick’s glare. He turned off the lamp on Rick’s desk, and started making his way for the door.

Before he could make it all the way through, however, he heard Rick meekly call for him to wait. “D-don’t leave...” He said. “P-please d-don’t leave me...”

Morty turned back to look at him, one eyebrow raised. “I-I was just going to bed, Rick. I-I’m not _leaving.”_

Rick let out a few grumbled words that Morty couldn’t understand before he started clumsily patting the small space on the cot next to him, almost insistently. He was asking Morty to stay with him for the night. He would never admit it when he was sober, but he was honestly afraid that he’d never see Morty again. He also knew that his fear was irrational, but having Morty with him would definitely put his mind at ease for the time being.

Morty sighed wearily. He knew that the throw up in his room was gonna start stinking up his room. But maybe he could just worry about it tomorrow.

Hesitantly, he closed the door and walked over to Rick’s cot. The old man, having noticed his hesitation, even while wasted beyond belief, reached forward and tugged on Morty’s shirt, pulling him down onto the cot.

They adjusted together on the cot until Morty was comfortably curled up to Rick. The smell of alcohol was obnoxious and nearly suffocating, but he’d deal with it for Rick. The old man was not in a good place right now, and Morty was willing to help him, even if doing so came with a little discomfort.

Morty found himself going out if his way to help Rick quite often, actually. Even while he felt like Rick didn’t care all that much about him, he still loved the man unconditionally. Rick was his best friend, through and through, no matter what.

He’s pretty sure that was one of his bad qualities, but he knew he’d never actually want to stop. Maybe not intentionally, but Rick helped him, too. While a lot of things Rick put him through were traumatizing, there were a lot of good things that came out of it as well. Morty had been really lonely before he’d met Rick, and while he still felt like he was alone in a lot of ways, things were getting better.

Rick was slowly but surely growing to love his grandson, and it made the world feel just a little less lonely and Infinite to the teen.

Rick was confusing. He’s pretty sure the scientist cares about him in some way or another, but not by all that much. Every so often he’d do something uncharacteristically nice, which would lead Morty to think Rick cared a lot, but then he’d do something a little meaner than usual just to throw him off.

Morty had started shrugging the confusion off a while ago, tonight being the exception, because Rick was being really weird.

“Goodnight, Rick.” Morty relaxed into the old man. After a moment of hesitation, he tacked on a _very_ quiet, “Love you...”

He hoped Rick was too drunk to hear him say that last part, knowing that the old man would only make fun of him for saying it.

“G’night, l-love you too, Mort...” Rick responded tiredly, wrapping an arm around the teen and pulling him closer.

Morty felt his heart swell with a flurry of emotions, a smile forcing its way onto his face. He almost giggled, finding it amazing yet hilarious that Rick had actually said that.

With the thought in mind that Rick must be _so_ fucking drunk that he’s temporarily lost his mind, Morty drifted into a peaceful sleep along side Rick.

 

 

* * *

 

 

When Rick woke the next morning, the bed was empty, and he was completely unaware of the fact that there had earlier been someone else next to him. All he could think about was the horrible headache he had.

He found some water and painkillers on his night stand, and assumed that someone had placed it there before he went to bed, while he was drunk.

All he could remember was that awful nightmare he’d had, and then grabbing a bunch of drinks from his secret mini-fridge in the garage.

Oddly, his room seemed cleaner. And he found all the bottle he had drank in his trashcan. _Why the fuck would he clean his damn room? How wasted did he get?_

He thought hard, trying to remember. Something. _Anything_. What did he do last night after getting drunk?

A foggy memory came up. It was of Morty promising him something.

 

* * *

 

 

_"Rick, calm down!" Morty grabbed Ricks arms, and pulled them away from the death grip he had on his shoulders. "I-I'm okay. I'm right here, you don't have to worry. I'm fine, okay? See?" He motioned to himself, showing off that he was fine. He looked at him with worried eyes. He's never seen that look on Morty’s face before._

_Rick watched carefully, listening to his words as if they were the answer to the universe. Though, Rick already knew there was no answer..._

_He felt so horrible right now, and he just wanted to hold Morty. His best friend. His assistant. His grandson. He wanted to hold him and never let go. Morty was the only person he actually still cared about, and he was so terrified that his best friend would die before him. And it would be all his fault._

_He leaned in, pulling Morty into protective hug. He ignored the flinch that came from Morty as he did so, but he didn't budge. He knew this was something he wouldn't normally do, but he was literally so drunk that he couldn't bring himself to give a fuck about his pride and/or dignity._

_“I-I'm okay. I'm not going anywhere." Morty said quietly. Rick felt the teen timidly reach up to run his hands through his hair, and he had to admit that the feeling wasn’t bad. It distanced his mind from the horrible dream he’d had. “I **promise.** "_

_Rick started crying from a mixture of unwanted emotions that flooded their way into his mind. Relief, fear, hurt, pain, joy, and many other emotions Rick couldn't put his finger on. He just cried into Morty’s shoulder, relived that the kid was okay._

 

* * *

 

He couldn't remember anything before or after that sliver of memory. Everything else was just foggy and black. Thinking about it made his head feel like cotton— Rick face-palmed. _Did he seriously go complain to Morty about his dream? How much did he tell him? He couldn't even remember!_

That dream was horrible. Morty was being tortured by a bunch of Federation junkies, and all Rick could do was watch as he slowly inched closer and closer to death. By the time Rick could finally get to him, it was too late. Morty was bleeding out and there was absolutely nothing he could do. His skin had been pale and clammy and cold to the touch. And his eyes had gone sightless, with his pupils blown so wide that he almost couldn’t see the green in his irises.

Rick had woken up as a sweating, crying mess, and for a good few minutes, Rick had been completely unsure on whether or not the dream had actually been real or not— it had just been so _vivid._

The next thing he knew, his shaking, sweaty hands were around the neck of a bottle, and he was fumbling desperately to get the cap off so he could just _forget._

Forget about _all_ of it. 

The way Morty looked at him. The blood that cake his body, and the coldness of his skin— _that sightless look in his eyes when the life inside of him had finally died._ He knew Morty was safe and sound in his room sleeping, but the dream had been so damn vivid and realistic that it felt _real._ And all he had wanted to do was _forget._

He probably shouldn’t have gotten that drunk, to be honest. He should have known his drunk adled self would seek out comfort from Morty— he was even more emotional and stupid when _that_ drunk than when he was sober.

It explained why his room looked more _clean_ than normal. And why he had water at his bed side, and how all the bottles got into the trash.

Morty was a good kid. He probably helped him after he freaked out on him, or something.

And Morty made a _promise._ A promise to never leave in the way that he had in his nightmare.

 

 

Rick would keep him to that promise.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Hope you enjoyed!


End file.
